By Ariel Shehter, Staff Writer
When it’s dark and it’s late and it’s lasting
And the space between you and the oven clock
Is enough to nuzzle into the corner
When on some rooftop
A hand over the edge is
Dipping into the evening light
Still hissing and smokey from
A firework slid out of your spine
When you laughed
You didn’t let it sink
After
When the hand is curious
Around it
And slow
And your steps are so powerful
You could walk them back
Your world bouncing
In a neon bubble
With all the others
In the bubble box
Correction: There was a misprint of “The Bubble Box” in Issue 1, Volume 84 of the Blueprint. This is the full version of the poem.
So good. Epic read